


Heir of a Throne

by Maymot97



Series: Bard, son of the dwarf of Laketown [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, half-dwarf Bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 06:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maymot97/pseuds/Maymot97
Summary: When Bard rescues the Company of Thorin Oakenshield from river, his life changes in a way he couldn't have imagined (well he could've but it wasn't likely) and now he finds himself stuck in the middle of politics he never wanted to be a part of.





	Heir of a Throne

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a multi-chapter fic, though I don't know how many chapters and I can't guarantee that there will be regular updates or that they will be particularly long. Also the Bard/Thorin will be in a later chapter and this isn't an everybody lives fic.

Bard is immediately wary when the dwarves address him in Khuzdul instead of Westron. He’s not sure if that means that these dwarves haven’t been around Men enough be really fluent in it, though that’s unlikely based on everything he remembers his mother telling him about her culture. So he assumes that it means that at least this one dwarf has pegged him as at least part dwarf—which is kind of amusing seeing as he’s about six feet tall—which causes Bard to be more worried about how they’ll refer to him.

_They probably think I’m a girl_ , he thinks to himself. _If they think I’m part dwarf. They’ll know that men grow beards, so along with dwarvish genes…_

“Wether or not the barge is for sale is dependent on what you need it for,” he says in Westron, noting the surprise on some of the dwarves’ faces. _Not all of them assumed_. “But I ask that you speak to me in Westron. While I can understand Khuzdul, I cannot speak it.”

He lowers his bow and makes his way over to where the barrels have drifted and starts about pulling them ashore. He shakes his head at the damage done to them. The dwarves are quiet as he gathers them over by the barge; some are nice enough to help. It’s just after Bard has gotten started putting them on the barge that the question comes.

“How can you understand Khuzdul?”

Bard turns to look at the dwarves and finds that it’s the most mannish looking of them asking the question. Bard smiles sadly at him.

“My mother was a dwarf, and she would speak it around me while I was growing up. I picked up some of it, but I’ve never been good at speaking other languages. Now, answer me this: Why should I help you?”

The white haired one smiles, obviously trying to make this deal as sensible as possible to Bard. “Those boots have seen better days, as has that coat. And no doubt you’ve got some hungry mouths to feed. How many kids?”

Bard pauses to look at him as he grabs another barrel. “A boy and two girls.”

“And no doubt your wife’s a beauty!”

_So he hasn’t assumed that much either_. Bard plays along. No sense in outing himself to total strangers. “Aye, she was.” He can feel Jules laughing at him from whatever afterlife Men go to.

The dwarf’s face falls, and Bard can feel the platitudes before they leave his lips. He almost wants to tell the dwarf not to bother—it’s been years since the sickness came through, year’s since Jules died and the dwarf didn’t know—but one of the other dwarves gets antsy about it.

From then on there are lies and Bard calling out the dwarves and then Bard finds himself employed as a smuggler. Jules is cackling at him from the afterlife now.


End file.
